Complicated Feelings
by SergeantEqualJustice
Summary: Rachel and Fanny can't seem to stop themselves from thinking about each other. Their feelings are mixed up and their daydreams made no sense. What if there was something more than just friendship between them? * All the main characters in this story will be 11-12 years old. T for violence and small amount of bad language. I do not own KND. Except for my OC Numbuh 79
1. Operation: REGRET

**Operation: R.E.G.R.E.T** - **R**egret **E**ndlessly **G**ives **R**achel **E**xtreme **T**roubles

Her mother was an art teacher.

It wasn't even a guess to guests who visited her study room for the first time. The first thing they saw when they walked in were the huge piles of sketchbooks with various names and academic years inked on the cover stacked on her desk. Then came the childish scribbles and unprofessional artwork from sketchbooks to canvases. Even the best ones weren't given a second glance.

But out of all the guests who set foot on her study room, Fanny was the only one who saw different from the rest.  
When she first crawled in, the soft carpet underneath her tiny knees and tiny hands were the first welcome she had. Then came the canvases towering high above her head with magnificent sweeps and arcs of brush marks against the white background as one stroke after another merged into one heart-stopping picture. One artwork had a scenery of a tall tree with bright fiery red and blazing orange leaves scattering and dancing with the wind while it towered threateningly over the garden below. Never mind the messy bits around the tree, it was the power and the fury the artist had intended that mattered. The canvas next to it, her favourite one, had a calmer atmosphere to it.  
A sheet of blue-green water rolled down the steep rocky slopes of the waterfall before it transformed into a white mist on the river below. Spring trees gathered around the river to marvel at its wonder while birds with stunning feathers were asleep on the branches.

She couldn't remember the rest of the artworks but the two she did remember had been put away in the comforting corner of her mind. It soothed her sadness when she remembered them. But one day, she wasn't sure when but the paintings were no longer remembered for soothing.  
She did remember them, but she wasn't aware of the fact that she remembered. So the memories lay tucked away in the corner, untouched for years.

Before she joined as a KND operative, her mother used to give her good-night kisses before tucking her to bed. Sometimes she'd read to her her favourite book while other times they'd patch up every tiny bit of fantasies they conjured and make a story up.  
Occasionally Fanny was allowed to have a page in her mother's sketchbook to draw. Sometimes she drew a stick-figured family portrait. Other times, a portrait of herself with bright rainbow wings.  
"Well done, Fanny" Her mother would say before planting a kiss on her forehead. "One day, you'll be a great artist."

Back then she felt... special.  
No, wait. She **was** special. And loved.  
Her mother always praised her even for the most ordinary things and told her everything that made her extraordinary.  
Drinking up her every word, she believed it. She believed she was special. She believed she was extraordinary.  
But that was **before** she met Rachel. Or was it when they graduated as KND operatives?  
Rachel, even without her awareness or will, hurt her in ways Rachel will never understand.  
In ways that even she, Fanny Fulbright, failed to answer the why's and the how's.

* * *

"Numbuh 86, where is that report?"  
"Numbuh 86, how could you forget to send Sector I to destroy that broccoli farm?"  
"Numbuh 86, Sector B had been calling you for thousands of times! Why didn't you answer back?"

All through out morning to afternoon, Fanny had to run from room to room delivering papers, answering transmission calls and organizing her decommissioning squad.  
Despite the honour and the advantages the position as a Global Tactical Officer brought, being one wasn't ideal for relaxing. Or having fun.  
Unless you called going through mountain-sized files, writing reports every hour and sorting out the KND operatives 'relaxing and fun'.

To Fanny it was a constant ache on the head. And to add extra problems to her list, what thanks does she get from either the supreme leader or her subordinates?  
Rachel hauling even more orders and scolding's while KND operatives sneering at her right under her nose.  
But today, Rachel was thrice more demanding than her ordinary self. If it only wasn't for her blonde hair then she would have easily been mistaken as Fanny's long lost twin sister. Not that Fanny had one. But the way she yelled at her and began dishing out orders, there was some resemblance between her and the current Global Tactical Officer.  
"Numbuh 86," 86 watched nervously as 362's eyes darted back and forth like a pendulum as she scanned the papers in her hands. "Y-yes, sir?"  
"What are these?"

After searching for her leader from the ground floor to the top, Fanny had finally managed to find numbuh 362 in the Moonbase Hallways and hand her reports back in time.  
Stiff-backed and standing straighter than a ruler with arms folded behind her back, Fanny stood to attention before her leader.  
"I-it's the report ya asked for, s-sir."  
"Report?"

Like she always does when she was nervous, 86 fiddled with the sleeves of her green sweater. Rachel was **not** in a calm mood. She'd been in a foul temper for several weeks now, since the new Moonbase had been built. No one knew the cause for her bitter face but there had been rumours that it was somehow connected with the disappearance of Nigel Uno. 86 thought otherwise. Or at least, she preferred to. All those ludicrous rumours of how 362 could possibly have a crush on that bald former Sector Leader made her nails leave marks on her palm.

Fanny fought against the urge to shrink back as Rachel went on. "How could you call these "reports"? Where are the names of this decommissioned operative's great grandparents? How many cousins does he have? Where are ALL these information?"  
A faint trace of fear flickered in 86's eyes. The supreme leader, sharp-sighted she may be, was too busy eyeing her reports to notice.  
"I-I don't have any sources leading me to any of them, sir. And I also thought they weren't really important and-"  
"Of course they're important!" 86 flinched. "You'd been the head of Decommissioning Squad far longer than any KND operatives in the past! You should have known better!"

Sighing in frustration, the supreme leader handed her reports back to the head of Decommissioning Squad before sinking back on to her chair. She looked exhausted. There were black rings under her eyes, her hair stuck out in all angles and her feet seemed to drag everywhere she went.  
_She must be dead tired_, Fanny thought to herself silently. Despite her awareness of being rude, she could not stop herself from gaping at her leader.  
For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. It was just the her who existed in her sight.  
Numbuh 362 didn't seemed to notice her second in command's eyes burning holes on to her. She was too drawn to her own thoughts as she gazed at the floor.  
Her chocolate coloured eyes, almost shielded by stray strands of blonde hair, never failed to captivate her. Before she even realized it herself, Fanny's gaze stayed from her eyes to her lips.  
A simple glance at it was enough to make her heart pick up speed. Off her mind went from the present to her own little fantasy world.  
She wondered what it would be like to-

**Wait...**

Shock dragged her back to reality.  
What on earth was she just thinking?  
Surely she wasn't...?  
No, Fanny shook her head to chase away the thoughts. She just admired her leader. End of story.  
Who wouldn't admire someone as sweet, smart and cute as her?  
Yes, it was just admiration she felt. Nothing more. What other explanation could there be for her to look at Numbuh 362 in such a daze?  
"Yes, Numbuh 86? Is there another report I need to hear?" The supreme leader had turned back to her, her eyes once more stern and commanding like her usual self. She'd obviously noticed that Fanny was still glued to her current spot and frowned as she showed no signs of walking back to her office.  
Fanny's heart skipped a beat and crumbled at the same time as she looked at her and had to turn her face away to hide her coloured cheeks.  
"I-I'll get these reports redone as soon as I can, sir." After a hurried salute, she scampered away towards her office.  
From behind she heard her leader call after her, "Get it done before nightfall!"  
She wasn't even anywhere near her destination when her mind darted back to those heart-melting brown eyes and the soft lips...

**CRASH!  
**  
She was face-flat on the ground, her papers flown out of her hands and decorating the floor into a lovely white mess.  
86 shakily picked herself up, her forehead burning in deep agony and her nose dripping with something warm and red. Some of the passing-by operatives sniggered louder than the others. Several shot her quick surprised glances before scooting away in case the Head of Decommissioning Squad blamed them for the accident.  
Confused at why she'd fallen to the ground, Fanny scanned around her surroundings until her gaze came across the wall she had run into.  
Feeling ridiculously stupid, she silently picked herself up, her head angled slightly towards the floor, before hurriedly collected her papers and escaped to her office, one hand plastered to her nose and the other clutching her reports.

There is a bathroom meant only for the Head of Decommissioning Squad connected to her office.  
It wasn't as pleasant and classy as the bathrooms in her house; it was just a simple tiled room painted in blue with a tub, a toilet and a sink with a mirror.

Once she ensured that her office door was shut and locked, 86 dragged herself to the bathroom mirror. What a day.  
What a freaking day.  
With both hands on either side of the sink, She gazed at the mirror. Gazed at it for a long time. Her reflection stared back.

She felt strangely remote from the girl in front of her. As if the reflective screen was merely a looking glass spying on someone other than Fanny. Someone who lives in another version of reality. Blood still dripped from her nose and she watched the droplets stain her green sweater dark red. No operative will ever forget this day. The day when Fanny Fulbright, the second in command and the most hated operative besides Numbuh 13, ran around and crashed into a wall like a brainless idiot.  
She wouldn't be at all surprised to see the accident recorded in the 'History of Kids Next Door' book. But being recorded for the stupid accident was currently the last on her list of worries.  
362 had yelled at her again.  
362 had treated her hard work like it was a sewer again.  
362 had plunged a needle inside her already bruised heart **again**.

Maybe she was right. Maybe 86 SHOULD have known better than to miss out on minor details.  
As useless the details of great-grandparent's names could be, perhaps it would be of use one day.  
But however much she blamed herself for the mistake, a small part of her wailed at the unfairness of it. She did every duty handed down to her to the best of her abilities but no matter how good or how hard she tried, she always ended up in pieces.  
Why?  
"Why?" She asked the girl.  
The girl said nothing in return.  
After a long silent competition of out-staring each other, 86 slowly reached for the toilet paper and pressed it gently against her numb nose.  
The pain on her head was torturing but the ache inside her was worse.  
When she glanced back at her reflection, she was shocked to see a single silver droplet squeeze through her eyelids and glide down her cheek.

For the rest of the day, Fanny was not seen outside her office.  
No one needed to ask why because everyone already knew about the accident. It was so easy to start rumours in the Moon Base and spread them around in alarming speed.

* * *

She watched her second in command rush down the hallway leaving her alone in the hallway. Regret and guilt had been regular visitors of hers lately. She'd yell without meaning to, send Fanny away and regret everything she'd said to her.  
It was unfair for Fanny, Rachel knew, because however much Numbuh 86 might have been hated by her operatives, her loyalty to the supreme leader and the KND was unquestionable and she strived everyday to achieve the best.

So, why did she yell at her for the missing details in her report when they weren't really essential information? It wasn't like her to shout at 86 like this. Numbuh 362 frowned, trying to analyse her attitude towards Fanny in every angle she could think of.  
It wasn't because she hated Fanny. She was certain of that. They surprisingly managed to be good friends since they were recruited. It was true that there were times when Rachel found her irritating and clumsy but there was something about Fanny that she couldn't bring herself to truly hate her.

In fact, her clumsiness and thick Scottish accent made her inside flutter. She wasn't sure why but it was a both pleasant and uncomfortable feeling.

Often when she was alone, her mind always wandered away and glued itself to the red-head. Then she'll smile without meaning to and daydream about her. Despite her habit of yelling and superstition that girls were far more superior than boys, Fanny was adorable for someone as tough as a nail.  
Rachel blinked in surprise. Did she just thought Fanny was 'adorable'?  
She was suddenly aware of her heart pounding against her chest, she could almost hear each separate beat. Her face suddenly felt as if they were basking under the sun and even without a mirror, Rachel was well aware that she was going red on the face.  
_Adorable?_ She repeated the word once more in her head.  
That's something only a cooing adult would say. Shaking her head and feeling uneasy with herself, she walked slowly back to her office.  
_Maybe I'm not getting enough sleep_, She thought to herself. _Yes that must be it. I'm not getting enough sleep._  
Of course, what other explanations could there be for labelling her short-tempered, shout-aholic second in command "adorable"?

The clock hands soon shifted from their spot from afternoon to night.  
Rachel could not stop herself from glancing at her clock after every few minutes or so.

It was already well past nine and Fanny still hadn't returned with her redone reports yet.  
Instead of feeling annoyed, 362 was deeply anxious of 86's feelings.  
_She must be very upset_, Rachel thought in concern, _She must be working the living daylights out of her for the sake of adding minor unimportant details!_  
Again, regret and guilt gnawed on her heart as she sat behind her desk, still deeply troubled by how she'd shouted at 86. Drumming her fingers rhythmically against the wooden surface, she drowned herself in a pool of thoughts and confusions. However much she tried to wring her brain once more for answers she was still unable to answer the one question that left her baffled and dry of thoughts.  
What was the reason for her sudden unpleasant attitude?  
The way she yelled must have distressed the poor girl deeply and to add another worry to her list, what if Fanny never forgave her?

"Me and my attitude." 362 muttered bitterly under her breath as she kicked at the floor in frustration at herself.  
Another hour had gone by. Rachel could not take it anymore. Just when she was about to pay a visit to the Global Tactical Officer, a knock on the door made her jump.  
Feeling relief wash over her, 362 practically flew to the door. She was certain that it was 86 back with her redone reports. This time, Rachel will apologize to her. This time, she was going to praise her for the hard work and do whatever it takes to make it up for her.

After all she'd done, she deserved those apologies.  
She deserved those praises.  
She deserved-

"Numbuh 362, sir." It wasn't Fanny who was outside the door saluting her. It was...  
"N-numbuh 65.3" Her relief soured in disappointment before it rotted back into regret and guilt. This was becoming even more serious than she thought. 86 **NEVER** handed her report past its due time. Was she currently brooding in her office? Maybe she's crying right now. What if she decided to retire because of her thoughtless yelling? Oh, why on earth couldn't Rachel had just clamped her big mouth shut?

"I've collected the data you asked for, sir." The overweight and slightly nerdy officer handed her a huge stack of folders that the top brushed the ceiling.

_Data? I don't remember asking for any data..._ She thought silently. But just in case, she retrieved the files anyways.  
362 grunted under the weight as her arms trembled a bit from the effort of holding it up.

"I made sure that every single important details were included, sir. Even the colour of toilet bowls in the broccoli farms." 65.3 seemed extremely pleased with his work. His smile went from one ear to the another and his chest was puffed out as if to show off his pride.  
"Umm... Thanks?" She replied unsure whether he was joking or being honest. There are times when she could never tell whether he was serious or not.

She placed the data on her desk and was about to slip past Herbert when he blocked her way.

"Wait, sir, I just received a transmission call from Sector I a few minutes ago and they'd reported about broccoli farm sightings near the-"  
"Sorry, 65.3. I know you came all the way here for the sake of reports but I'm in a bit of hurry right now. Resume the report for later." she said apologetically and tried to squeeze past the door through the space on his other side but again she was blocked from escaping.  
"Just listen for a minute!" He wailed pleadingly. "There are kids being forced to eat broccoli out there, Sir! Your attention is urgently needed!"  
"I said, resume the report later." She tried to squeeze past him again and once again she was blocked.

362 glanced back at the clock. It was already nearing eleven and 86 was **still** not here. Her worry had already turned into fear. Her fear was blooming into panic. In her mind's eye, she could already see the red-haired girl with the thick Scottish accent resigning from her position as a KND operative.

"Look, Numbuh 65.3" She turned back to the nerd. "I'm in a hurry to sort out a few important problems. I understand that the situation is serious but really I'm in a big hurry. I'll catch up with the rest of the report tomorrow morn-"  
"But, sir!" He countered. "Kids are being tortured by angry adults who forces **sprouts and broccoli** down their **throats**! And all you're worried about are a few **PROBLEMS**?!"

She was nearing the end of her patience while 65.3 stubbornly stood his ground. This was getting ridiculous! Herbert was loyal to the KND and desperate to save children from adult tyranny, Rachel understood that. But it's not like she'd never come back and hear those reports. All he had to do was wait for her to apologise while she ensured that Fanny was okay. But **NO** he wouldn't wait or listen to her orders.

"Herbert." She hissed through gritted teeth before she could control herself. "As the Supreme Leader of Kids Next Door, I'm giving you a direct order to step aside and let me through."  
He flinched at her tone. Rachel, one of the best Supreme Leader who always maintained her calm and kind personality, had been losing her temper with a LOT of operatives these days. Thinking better than to argue, he reluctantly stepped back.

As she stormed past him, only her pure rage could be seen. But beneath the shell was a little girl drowning in shame.

* * *

Back then, they lived in a mansion.  
Even after all these years, she could still remember the checked floor, the luxurious sofas, the grandfather clock and the countless staircases carpeted in red.  
It was so huge it was like walking around inside a museum to her. A museum with luxurious house furniture to be precise. But what she loved about those days was not her house but the neighbour next door.

Her name was literally Mrs Darling  
She used to live in Maple Street right next to Rachel's home before they moved out.  
Sometimes she'll bring freshly baked cookies while other times she'll knit her a new oversized jumper. The McKenzie family loved her to no end. Who wouldn't love the elder next door who knits them over-sized jumpers, brings cookies twice a week and supports them through one trouble after another? Rachel never thought it was possible to form a strong unbreakable bond between elder and adults; let alone elder with kids but then she was young back then.  
Young enough that she would have been an under-aged operative if she had joined the KND Organization.

On her seventh birthday, June the second, Rachel was, for some unknown reason, kept indoors by her parents.  
No matter how much she pleaded, they will not hear of it. And what made the situation even more confusing was that they refused to explain the reason for shutting her inside the house.  
But at least, there was the birthday party to celebrate. One by one, the guests of her party, mostly her friends and classmates, filled the dining hall and every one of them wished her a happy birthday.  
But someone was missing. Mrs Darling did not attend the party that afternoon.  
The cake was cut, the presents were opened and the guests had left but still her favourite neighbour wasn't present.

Just before her bedtime that evening, there was a hurried knock on the door. Flushed from running and panting heavily, Mrs Darling was welcomed by cheers from Rachel the second she stepped inside. She apologized many times to her parents and Mr McKenzie, a tall slim man with identical blonde hair as his daughter, waved away her apologies. He assured her that they weren't upset and they were just glad that she made it before tomorrow.

Mrs Darling extended her skinny arm to hand Rachel her present. It was a neatly wrapped up box tied with a purple bow.  
"Happy Birthday, darling." She croaked as she gave her a tight hug, nearly squeezing the breath out of her.  
And then everything that came afterwards that night was confusingly unsettling.

As Rachel broke away from the hug, she noticed a wrist band on her wrinkly wrist. It was very pretty. It had red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple stripes. It looked like a rainbow.  
"Mrs Darling." She pointed at her band. "Look, it's a rainbow."

Her parents froze. Their smiles looked like it was carved from boulders. Mrs Darling seemed to have gone a bit nervous too. She did not turn around but held on to Rachel's hand. It was almost as if she did not want to let go.

The silence seemed to last forever as if Rachel had said something that muted the world forever.

For a moment, she wondered if she'd said something wrong.  
Perhaps Mrs Darling and her parents didn't like rainbows. Perhaps they didn't like colours all mixed up together and preferred one or two colours instead.  
But why was she wearing a rainbow wristband if that was so?

"Mrs Darling?" she clutched her box tighter until her knuckles were white.  
Her father finally broke the silence. "Rachel, it's time to go to bed." She looked at him for a moment and back at Mrs Darling. Looked at him again and back to her.  
Her neighbour seemed... disappointed? angry? nervous?  
It was hard to tell. She was still smiling and holding her hand. Her eyes weren't smiling. They were... Twinkling?

"Daddy, may I stay until Mrs Darling leaves?" Rachel pleaded timidly. What was going on? why were they not happy?  
"You can see her another time. Go to your bed." He replied.  
Rachel refused to move. She wasn't going anywhere until Mrs Darling left.  
"RACHEL!" He growled.  
"Don't worry, little one." A tight squeeze on her hand before she let go. "Goodni-"  
"GO to your ROOM." He was half shouting now. A gentle push on her back. Rachel turned to look at her elderly neighbour for the last time. Her wrinkled but kind face, her dull sapphire eyes and her greying hair. They all seemed to fuse together to form a single word: Goodbye.

That was the last time she ever saw her again. Afterwards, there were some dark mutterings among her parents but their conversations were too low that it was a mere stream of shapeless sounds to Rachel.  
Then there was a faint 'creak'.  
And the front door was closed.

Rachel lay on her bed, breathing as deeply as she could. The box was still in her arms. She refused to let go. It was the last remaining object that smelled of her.  
Footsteps on the staircase. And her father poked his head through the door.  
He looked at her for a moment as if lost for words.  
"Give me the box, Rachel." He finally said. The tone of his voice demanded complete obedience and she handed him her present without a squeak of objection.  
She knew where he was going to hide it. Later that night, when she was sure her parents had fallen asleep, she crept into the kitchen and dug out the box with the purple bow out of the trash can.  
It smelled faintly of cake and orange juice but otherwise unharmed.  
She left the box inside the trash to make it seem as if her present was still thrown away and left with her birthday sweater.  
It was orange with purple stripes.

* * *

86 sighed as she half-heartedly scanned her reports for the millionth time.  
She was exhausted from sitting behind her desk and staring at the papers for goodness knows how long.  
Her report was nowhere near 'fully detailed'. 362 wouldn't be pleased...

Fanny glanced at the clock and nearly jumped out of her chair.  
Her report was already past its due time! She was supposed to have it returned to 362 ages ago.  
Hurriedly gathering her stuff, she was about to leave when she heard someone knock on her door.

It must be 362. She must have gotten impatient and was here to demand answers to why her reports weren't handed back on time.  
Trembling slightly, she adjusted her helmet and tucked her hair neatly behind her ears before opening the door.

******** To be Continued ***********


	2. Operation: CLUES

**Note: It had taken ages to upload this chapter.  
Yes, I know. And I deeply apologize for any inconvenience caused.  
Please understand that I'm in a very important and busy school year.  
I tried to develop this chapter as much as I could without affecting my studies.**

**Another note I'll like to add is I will like to send special thanks to Numbuh 1990 for reviewing and correcting my errors.**  
**Thank u, Numbuh 1990 ^^**

Numbuh 1990, 1989, 1991 OC's belongs to Numbuh 1990

* * *

Operation: Part I - **C.L.U.E.S**- **C**ruel **L**eague of **U**nidentified **E**nemies **S**trike

Even in the dim light that barely lit the room, the prisoner could be clearly seen, sprawled against the floor.

A faint, almost inaudible, whistle jerked him awake.

Chains grinded against his wrists and ankles while the fabric nearly blocked his flow of air.  
Choking and straining to lift his head from the reeking, dusty floor, he squinted against the light bulb, hanging from the ceiling with the support of several wires and a rope, illuminating his face with a ghostly light.  
The whistle went on.

And on.

And on.

It never stopped.  
The owner was nearby.

Grunting slightly, he tried to wriggle free from the metal chains but they seemed to tighten until it was only a brink away from clotting his wrists. He gave up the struggle and glared into the shadows where the whistle was coming from.  
The tune the whistler was whistling... He heard that song before...  
He heard the same tune countless times as a child.

The whistle stopped...

Dead silence...

In that moment, only breathing could be heard...

The whistler finally spoke, "I expected better from you."

The dark had shrouded him from view but he knew the whistler was there. He imagined him leaning against the wall, arms crossed with that familiar face of icy calmness and laid back expression.  
"You turned against me, after all I offered you." The prisoner narrowed his eyes at the darkness.  
He couldn't speak through the thick, suffocating fabric. Why they even bothered to mute him was a mystery.

Who on earth would hear him scream in a place like this?

A snap of fingers.  
A slightly overweight boy, almost about the age of nine, carried a metal tray to where the whistler remained hidden in the darkness.  
From where he lay, the prisoner couldn't see what was on the tray but he didn't have to.  
He already knew what was about to happen.

He had seen the whistler torture his followers and enemies in the exact same way before.

He'd snap his fingers and the same boy will bring the tray. And what came next was...

The clicking of boots against wood warned the prisoner of the approaching demon.

He was no human.  
He couldn't be one.

Beneath his chest lies nothing.

And on the surface of his palm were instruments of torture.

* * *

The old Moon Base defense system, at the very worst, had been capable of eliminating any unwanted guests in a matter of seconds.

There were the high-tech computers that activated weapons which could destroy a troop of adults with one blast, fifty security cameras were planted in every room and highly skilled Moon Base Guards patrolled in every area.

Grandfather had proved that there were still certain weaknesses in their security system by infecting the operatives with unknown virus which turned them into Senior Citi-Zombies.

However high-tech the computers may be, they will not be able to identify a zombie infected KND operative as intruders and thus will not react to their invasions; the security cameras were out of the question and the Moon Base Guards were all captured in the end and turned into zombies.

It was only by luck and Numbuh 1's bravery that the kids around the world were safe and the KND organization was still fully functional.

The attack however had deeply troubled 362 and so she created a group called Moon Base Melee Squad (MBMS). It consisted of three highly experienced, professional operatives whose duties were to protect the Moon Base and serve the KND.

Numbuh 1989, one of the MBMS members, was KND's top hand-to-hand specialist and was instantly hired to protect the Moon Base.

Numbuh 1991, another MBMS member, had an unbeatable talent in long-ranged weapons and was, without doubt, the best at taking down any enemies miles away.

Numbuh 1990, former leader of Sector NY, constantly proved that her leadership skills and loyalty to KND was unquestionable which earned her the position as their leader.

* * *

The sudden blaring alarm went off as Numbuh 60's panicked and bruised face appeared on the screen.

"Emergency call to Moon Base! Emergency call!" There was a trace of fear and desperation in his voice that no one had heard before. It was rare for the tough Drill Sergeant to act as if the world was only a brink away from destruction.

Rubbing her eyes, Numbuh 1990 slowly got up from her bed and switched on her bedside lamp.

The pale light illuminated her boyish brown hair and blue eyes as she made her way across the room and stood in front of the screen.

"Numbuh 1990 of Moon Base Melee Squad answering." She said as she picked up her headphones and adjusted the microphone piece. From the headsets, she could hear the distant uproars of gun fires and the screams of children even though the screen displayed nothing but the Drill Sergeant's panicked face.

"Numbuh 1990, alert the Supreme Leader immediately! The Arctic Base is under attack by unidentified enemies and our defense lines are thrashed!" There was a crash and Numbuh 60 briefly glanced behind him and looked back at her.

There was something behind him.  
A faint outline of a shadow could be seen amongst the cloud of dusts and debris.  
She could tell by the worsening panic in his voice that it was **not** a friendly guest.

"Send immediate back up** NOW**!"

Another crash. This time, it seemed to make the whole Arctic Base tremble. Patton was struggling to gain his balance as the ground shook beneath his feet.  
The shadow loomed closer.  
Chunks of rocks began to fall from the ceiling, forcing the Drill Sergeant to weave past them in amazing agility and...

The screen went blank.

* * *

Rachel was strangely nervous as she baited her breath and knocked on her door. She was carrying a mug of hot chocolate reserved for Fanny on one hand while the other constantly fiddled with its fingers.

It was an unconscious habit. Being nervous equaled to fiddling.

The Decommissioning Sector was empty but her. All the Squad members had already left except Fanny who was still present in the Moon Base.  
The door swung open and 86 peeked out, her bright green eyes dull with exhaustion.

"Numbuh 362." she mumbled as she saluted her.

86 had changed from her usual green jumper to a simple green shirt and jeans with a green jacket.

Saluting back with her free hand, 362 reached out and held the mug out in front of 86 with a small smile.  
It wasn't a smile of joy - how could it be?  
It was a smile that seemed somehow apologetic and embarrassed at the same time.

"I-I thought you might be tired so I brought you a drink." She said.

86 blinked once, then twice.  
She seemed surprise and unsure but after a brief pause, she retrieved the mug.

"Umm, th-thank you, sir." she muttered quietly. Fanny seemed to be unable to relieve the stiffness in her shoulders, almost as if there was something bothering her. She stepped back and opened the door wider. "Why don't you come in?"

Despite her many visits to the Head of Decommissioning's office, it felt as if she was walking on foreign ground. This room with the very same furniture, the very same size and paint never seemed to get any familiar than before.  
Rachel scanned around, taking in her surroundings like a dog that had just been taken from the pet shop and into her new owner's house. Why couldn't she get used to this room?

There's the messy desk by the corner with all those unbelievable amount of papers and documents. Rachel wouldn't be surprised if Fanny had never seen what the surface of her desk looked like with all those papers filling and refilling her desk.  
That's Fanny's bed on the opposite side of the room from her desk.  
The bedside lamp and table tucked neatly between the corner and her bed.

And, yes, she could still remember the filing cabinet a little distance away from Fanny's desk. It was where all the commissioned and ex operatives' recorded information and details were kept.

Fanny glanced at the mug Rachel gave to her. The sweet aroma of chocolate wafted up her nose but the icy stone in her stomach would not let her drink.

_When 362 finds out about the report, this'll be the first and the last time she'll ever buy drinks for me_, she sighed unhappily.

She closed the door behind her and watched as Rachel inspected her room as if she'd never seen it before.

_Anyone would think she's new here_, Fanny silently thought to herself. _Perhaps she'd forgotten what it looked like._

Forgotten or not, she didn't cared. Either way, she was going to get an hour of ear bashing by her Supreme Leader. In any second, Rachel'll demand to see her report.  
In any second, another bruise will appear beneath her chest.

Fanny was strangely quiet for someone so loud. Rachel looked back at her again and saw the usual frowning face she always wore but what happened to her eyes? It was empty of joy and life like a lifeless doll. Like a face carved from a boulder. For a moment, she flashed back to the night she last saw Mrs. Darling. The way the elderly woman kept on wearing an expression to hide whatever was underneath her mask...

Remembering the reason for her visit, Rachel walked to her Global Officer slowly, hands behind her back and head slightly down.

How she was going to apologize, she had no idea. Great leadership qualities she may be said to have. For the first time in her life, she stepped in to action unplanned. She practically barged into Fanny's office without a clue on how she was going to bring out her words. How could she make Fanny understand that she was truly sorry for what she did?

Rachel was about to briefly plan out her apologies when a sudden pounding on the door interrupted her. _There goes my chance to apologize. _she sighed as Fanny left her side to answer the door. _I haven't even said a word!_

Numbuh 1990 and the other MBMS members were outside and as Fanny opened the door, they saluted her and stood to attention.

"Is the Supreme Leader in your office?" Numbuh 1990 asked.

Fanny stared at them a little surprised by the visit. How on earth did they guess that Rachel would be in the Head of Decommissioning office? It's not as if she visits her every day.

Before Fanny could reply back, Rachel appeared beside her.

"What is it, Numbuh 1990?" Rachel asked.

"Sir, I just received a distress transmission call from Numbuh 60 stationed at the Arctic Base." 1990 informed her. "The Arctic Base is under attack by unidentified enemies. He calls for immediate back up."

_Under attack? _ She inwardly groaned. _Looks like apologies will have to wait._

The blonde opened her mouth to speak but before she could say anything, Fanny spoke first.

"We can't just send military operatives over there if that's what he's asking for. It could be a diversionary attack to ambush Moon Base! If the Arctic Base's best defense line couldn't keep the enemies from attacking, then the military operatives **must** be stationed at the Moon Base in order to defend it!"

"If the enemies are strong enough to get past the defense line and attack the Arctic Base, we can't just sit around, twiddling our thumbs and hoping that they'll miraculously chase the enemies away! We have to help them!" Numbuh 1989, the most energetic among the MBMS members, countered back. His auburn hair was slightly ruffled from sleep but his green eyes blazed with vigor.

Rachel held out a hand before the argument could proceed any further.

"What Numbuh 86 is saying could be a possibility. But I also agree with Numbuh 1989." she calmly said. "We'll send out a small group of top professional operatives to help the Arctic Base."

"Top professional operatives? Who're they?"

"I thought you might be able to guess, Numbuh 86." Rachel looked around from the MBMS members to the Global Tactical Officer. "It's us, along with a few of my friends."

* * *

The S.C.A.M.P.E.R cruised smoothly across the ink black space dotted with eleven-ty billion crystal stars.

Numbuh's 1990 and 1989 were piloting, 1991 was in charge of navigating while Rachel commanded the vehicle. Fanny, whose only special skill when it comes to vehicle handling was shouting orders at people and crashing S.C.A.M.P.E.R.'s, sat on one of the passenger seats and looked out of the pothole.

They had already changed into KND winter uniforms which were a thick hooded jacket and trousers with fur-lined boots.  
Fanny had sent a brief transmission call to a few of Rachel's 'friends' and they had agreed to come and meet at the Arctic base.

As the world outside the pothole lazily glided past, she felt her eyes beginning to droop as she leaned her head against the glass and fell asleep.

* * *

It was the third of June. A family had moved in next door.

Fanny had already turned seven and she was a little uncomfortable upon hearing the news that her new neighbor had a child about the same age as her.

Fanny was always bullied at school, who could guarantee that this child her parents talked about would act any different to her?

"Hey!"  
She did not turn but walked straight ahead, hoping that perhaps for once, just this once, she might be able to escape from her pursuer. It was still lunch time at Gallagher Elementary school but instead of eating, she had been trying to avoid people by finding the most deserted spot she could find in the sports field.

Now, she wished she was somewhere where it was brimming with teachers.  
How could she call for help when the field was empty but her... and him?

"Stop, ya asshole!" A rough pull on her shoulder and she was suddenly pushed to the muddy grass below her.

He was only a few years older than her but he was already as tall as a young teenager. He even spat the same curses they used.

Fanny spat out the grass that strayed into her mouth and trembled as his face towered over her. She wanted to scream but that meant free packets of knuckle sandwiches and out of all the sandwiches, knuckle sandwiches were the nastiest of them all.

"Why didn' ya stop when I told ya to?" Big but dumb, Quentin was known for his bitter language and lack of knowledge. No one liked him out of both fear and hate, so wherever kids seemed to sprint away from is most likely where Quentin was.

Fanny was leaning as far as she could away from her aggressor that her neck was practically aching.  
Noticing the way she seemed to clutch her bag, Quentin tried to snatch it from her. "What d'ya have in the bag?"

"Stop, wait!" Fanny cried out as she fought to keep her bag with her."Please, stop it!"

A sudden pull on her hair forced her to let go and she whimpered, trying to force her scream down. Her bag was eventually tugged free.  
He smirked as she sobbed and covered her face with her hands. He then unzipped the bag and tipped it upside down, letting an avalanche of books, papers and pencils to fall. Among the debris, he stooped and shuffled through them and discovered her sketchbook with rainbow monkey stickers on the cover.

His smirk widened as he flipped through them and laughed at the childish drawings and scribbles presented between the pages.

"Stupid little brat enjoys drawing, eh?" He chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment.

Slowly walking over to the nearest mud puddle that was only a few meters away, he gripped the sketchbook tightly in his clammy hands. Fanny looked up; she leaped to her feet, about to take her book back, but he turned and gave her a warning glare before resuming his walk.

"PLEASE DON'T! THAT WAS A BIRTHDAY PRESENT FROM MA!" She screamed but who could hear her? The bully would obviously act as if he hadn't heard. The teachers were inside the cafeteria and the noises the students made would drown her scream into its endless stream of chattering and shouts.

She was helplessly alone with the bully.

Quentin held the sketch book above the mud puddle and giggled.

One moment, he was standing over the mud puddle. The next, he was suddenly kicked on the chin as a blur of blue leaped out of nowhere and attacked him.  
The blur was a girl, about Fanny's age with blonde hair and chocolate eyes. Her blue long-sleeved shirt was scruffy and spotted with specks of dirt. Fanny couldn't help but notice that she was quite pretty despite the careless state of her clothing.

As the girl was about to pull Fanny's arm and escape, Fanny held back.

"Wait, my sketchbook!" She made a dash for her birthday present but her savior stopped her halfway.

"Hey, I'll get your sketchbook. But promise me you'll run while I'm at it." With that, the girl ran off. Fanny stood frozen to the spot. She wasn't so sure whether she should obey her orders or stick around in case she needed help.

The girl was only inches away from the sketchbook when she was suddenly pulled by her collar. Then, a flash of knuckles as she was sent tumbling across the grass.  
Wiping a speck of mud from his cheeks, Quentin glowered at the girl. He slowly trudged to where she lay coughing up mud, cracking his knuckles on the way.

"Stupid, worthless girls think they're all so tough and strong." He said as picked her up, fist pulled back, aiming for her face. The girl held up her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the incoming blows.

Without thinking, Fanny picked up the heaviest book she could find among the pile of her school equipments and dealt a massive blow to Quentin's head, dropping him to the ground.

As she heard the soft 'thud', the girl peeked through her eyelids, then slowly dropped her arms and relaxed her guard. Her right cheek was slightly red from the punch but she was otherwise unharmed.

Fanny was crouching a little distance away, clearly not comfortable with socializing.  
After a moment of awkward staring contest, the girl gave her a small smile.  
That smile...

Picking up the sketchbook, the girl looked at it for a long time.

The sketchbook was slightly muddy and dog-eared.  
Fanny looked down at her shoes.  
Her eyes stung and felt warm at the same time.

The sketchbook was in ruins...  
It was her birthday present...

"... Thanks... for saving me." Fanny finally muttered.

"I'm Rachel." The girl said, her chocolate eyes turning to meet her spring green ones. "Rachel McKenzie. And you are...?"

* * *

"We'll be arriving at the Arctic Base in about twenty minutes, Sir!" Numbuh 1989's sudden announcement pierced into Fanny's dreams, jerking her awake.

She was back to herself.  
Back to Numbuh 86.  
Fanny Fulbright, the KND's Head of the Decommissioning Squad and Global Tactical Officer, was no longer a seven year old girl anymore.

Rachel was standing near the controlling panel, observing something on the navigating screen. Numbuh 1991, with her usual emotionless face, was pointing at the screen as if to indicate something on the map.  
The blonde nodded and turned, her eyes meeting Fanny's as she did so.  
Those chocolate eyes...

They reminded her so much of the day when they first met.  
When they were sitting on the grass, a bully knocked unconscious lying nearby while they shared small smiles between them.

"Numbuh 86, you're awake." she smiled.

_Numbuh 86..._

How long has it been since Rachel last called her 'Fanny'?

"Y-yes, sir. Anything I can help you with?" Fanny stood back on to her feet and stretched.  
"I want you to help Numbuh 1991 to carry the medical supply bag." Rachel nodded at the white sports bag bulging with bandages and ointments on the floor beside her. "Just in case the cadets and operatives in the Artic Base got hurt during the ambush."

"Of course, Sir. I understand." The red head saluted back.

But deep inside she did not understand.  
Not the reason why she had to carry the bag but why things couldn't be the way they were.  
So much had happened.  
So many changes.

She wanted the life she loved back.

The life when her family still had their smiles.

The life when she used to laugh everyday and thought that Earth was indeed a great paradise.

The life where Rachel was still... Rachel.


	3. Operation: Part II - Clues

A/N:** I finally managed to get this finished. Exams are just around the corner so chapter 4 might take a while to develop. I'm really sorry for the late chapter.  
I've been kept busy with all the school work I had to do.  
I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I didn't wanted to finish this in like three seconds and post it because I wanted this story to be as good as it can be.  
Sorry again for the lateness.  
**

* * *

**Operation: Part II - CLUES **- **C**ruel **L**eague of **U**nidentified **E**nemies **S**trikes

_Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!_

The monotonous robotic voice repeatedly blared from the speakers.  
Flashes of red and the screaming siren were the first warning they received before the ear-splitting gun fires and explosions took place.  
From beneath the frozen lake, numerous armed submarines surrounded the Arctic Base, rapidly firing at the buildings and barely even grazing itself as the computerized weapons counter-attacked.  
From each submarine, a group of armed enemies in water gears broke into the Base and soon, the war of kids versus unidentified deep-sea enemies began from both inside and the outside.

Mustards arched over their heads, lasers flashed before their eyes and explosive devices sent unfortunate operatives nearby crashing against walls and showering chunks of rocks and dusts upon them.

The Arctic Base was in complete uproar.  
Kids of all age and face attacked their aggressors with whatever weaponry and courage they had but the harsh battle was not in their favour.  
Three fifths of the Base's top sergeants and guards were grievously wounded or unconscious, those who still remained on their feet were hopelessly outnumbered and the next incoming enemy wave would soon to arrive.  
In other words, the situation was unpleasantly grim.

On the top floor of the Base, a flicker of shadows drifted past the wall, unbeknownst to their enemies beneath them.  
A small group of Arctic geared figures, each equipped with a S.C.A.M.P.P, sprinted towards one end of the hall, the muzzles of their guns veering side to side as if expectant of another tyrannical ambush. They passed by bodies which littered their path and often slipped on puddles of dark crimson while they ran. A metallic stench filled their noses but long experience of war had made them adapted to the smell without twitching an eye lash.

The Sergeant leading them had coal-black hair matted against his shiny forehead and atop his head sat a round orange ski hat. A stream of dried blood snaked from the cut above his eyebrow and down to the side, reaching his jaw, appearing as if he had sweat blood.  
Panting from the effort of having to defeat countless enemies whilst climbing the stairs all the way to the top, the sergeant held up his hand to halt his team mates as they reached the double metal doors at the end of the hall way.  
Behind the doors were where they kept the armed escape shuttles. The Drill Sergeant had hoped that, with the help of the shuttles and its formidable fire power, they could finally drive those blasted enemies running with their tails between their legs.  
One glance was all it took for anyone to realize that the doors were unspeakably thick and bullet-proof.  
The only possible ways of getting past were to either enter the twenty digit long security code on the keypads attached next to the doors or to destroy it with a sooper-gigantic fire power.

Putting his gun back to the holster strapped to his back, the Sergeant began to mutter the password sequence under his breath, his hand reaching out for the key pads.  
One of the tallest of his team members whipped around to stare at the Drill Sergeant with a look of alarm on her face.  
"Numbuh 60 sir," She began. "I doubt we'd be able to flee in one piece **even** if we all reached the escape shuttles."  
Ignoring her, Patton's hand lingered near the key pads before it began to punch in the first three digits of the password then it paused again.  
Crud, he'd forgotten the password!  
"Didn't you see those submarines they were in, Sir? I mean, just look at those monsters!"  
60 scowled as he racked his brain, trying to recall the remaining security code.

A gigantic explosion somewhere beneath them shook the floor they were standing on, raining clouds of dusts upon the sergeants on the top floor.  
The explosion shoved Patton off his feet and sent him crashing face first against the metal doors, crushing his nose and unleashing a fresh stream of crimson dripping down his chin.  
"They destroyed half the base with one blast."The tall female sergeant went on as if the explosion did not happen. "I don't think the escape shuttles would even last-"  
"Sergeant seven-twenty-four," The Drill Sergeant exploded, "will you just _shut up _for sprouts sake and let me open these damn doors without you yapping in my ear?!"  
Seven-twenty-four immediately clamped her mouth shut with an audible 'click' but her doubtful frown remained.  
Patton turned back to the key pads, the security code slowly trickling back to his memory, and began typing in the next four digits.

_Seven... five... four... one...  
_Hmm, what were the next numbers again?  
Was it _two, two, three _or _three, two, two?_

"We'd been spotted by the enemies! **ATTACK!" **Someone behind him screamed, interrupting his concentration and the rapid gun fires erupted in the hall way._  
_Before he could get any further with the security code, something whizzed by his ear, narrowly missing his head.  
A shiny disk had implanted itself on one of the metal doors and Patton could clearly see the reflection of his blood soaked, panic-stricken face gazing back at him.  
_What the...? Isn't that_ a_ DVD? _60 raised his eye brows in amazement.  
Looking over his shoulder, he saw the enemies crouching from afar on the other end of the hall way, firing discs and lasers back at his sergeants.  
_They're firing DVD's at us? _  
What was the most noticeable of them were that they had the same frames as that of a child but he couldn't be too sure as they are covered in under-water armour and were too far away.  
Though it could have been his exhaustion playing tricks on his eyes but the armours they wore strangely looked identical to KND's Under-Water Protection Gears.

...Wait, it couldn't be...?  
_No,_ 60 shook his head, clearing away his thoughts. _No way. They can't be...!_

Stupid, cruddy attackers must have worn similar gears to KND's by coincidence...  
Yes, that was it!  
It was just a coincidence.  
Satisfied with the thought, Patton shot the Scuba divers one last glare before he turned back to the metal doors and refocused his attention on entering the remaining code. Out of all the times they could have invaded, it had to be when the Arctic Base had the least numbers of operatives protecting the Base.  
How did they even **know** when to attack?  
Were they spying on them? monitoring every room and waiting for their next chance to invade?  
or was this another coincidence too?

Patton stepped back as he finished fumbling with the key pads.  
He'd made sure _every_ digit had been entered correctly.  
While the security device began to examine the codes he had entered, Patton began to feel optimistic despite the Arctic Base's grave position.  
If he can just send four or five shuttles around the perimeter of the Base's territory, they might be able to attack the enemies from behind.  
Yes, it might distract them while the rest recovers their ground and prepare for a counter-attack.  
Now, all he had to do was think of a-  
There was a faint _beep_ and a female robotic voice growled from the speaker above the key pads.  
_"Access Denied. Please type in the _correct_ security code."_

He stared at the speaker, frozen in his spot.  
What was going on?  
He'd checked and checked to make sure all the digits had been entered in the right sequence.  
Did someone perhaps hacked into the security system and-...?

No.  
He was being stupid.  
No way on earth would an enemy, including the smartest of them all, could have hacked past the Base's best security system! The best 2x4 Officers had made the system eleventy-billion percent enemy-proof.  
The password was strictly revealed to KND operatives ONLY and every one of them had been taught, since cadet-hood, to **never, EVER **even think about messing with any of the Base's systems.

It must be the cruddy machine!  
The key pads must be malfunctioning or something.  
Rats!

Groaning, he was about to restart the password sequence again when something bounced against his back.  
Turning around, he picked up what looked like a bundle of candy canes tied with a wire and a timer attached.  
Peering at the timer, he read the clock hands as it ticked down the seconds.

_Eight...  
Seven...  
Six..._  
_  
_It looked oddly familiar...  
Where had he seen this before?  
Patton stared at the retreating Scuba divers, confused.  
Something wasn't right here. Who were they? **What** were they?  
"Numbuh 60 sir?"

Somewhere in his mind's eye, he saw a blurred image of a face... a friend he'd not seen for many years due to his duty as a sergeant.

"Sir, you might want to..."

He recalled how she used to design weapons and candy explosives with skills that could bypass top 2x4 weapon designers.  
They used to play on the monkey bars back when they were still new KND graduates.  
Those were the days...

"Sir! Please! Throw that C.A.N.D.Y.M.I.T.E away!" Sergeant Seven-Twenty-Four's shriek finally slapped him from his trance.

Huh?  
He looked around him and saw that he was stranded from his team mates while they stood on the opposite end of the hall from him.  
Then Patton glanced down at his hands, at his fingers laced tightly around the small explosive.

**Oh crud...**

* * *

Rachel fumbled with her scarf for what felt like the eleventy-billion times.  
No matter which shape or form she'd tried to tie her scarf, it was always too tight that it strangled her or too loose that it hung limply around her shoulders.  
Out of fear that she might embarrass herself as the only operative who hadn't a clue on how scarves worked, Rachel had excused herself to one of the S.C.A.M.P.E.R's bunker and had been wrestling with her scarf ever since.  
People often said that the scarf was the easiest accessories to wear but 362 didn't think so.  
The cruddy thing seemed to be determined in wasting her time and tiring her hands!  
What the sprouts is a scarf used for anyways? To keep their necks from getting frost bites?  
The Supreme Leader sighed through gritted teeth as she looked down and saw that she'd tied her scarf into a surprisingly lovely bow tie.

"Stupid piece of fabric!" She growled as she threw the 'piece of fabric' to the floor.

Who'd need one anyways?  
She was wearing enough layers of clothing to keep herself warm once they reach the Arctic Base.  
The blonde was about to check the equipment she'd packed for the rescue mission when a movement caught her eye.  
The door knob was turning...  
_Sprouts!_ She cursed. _ I forgot to lock the door!_

The blonde swiftly kicked the scarf behind the door just before a face peered in, eyes widening as it realized that the bunker was occupied.

"N-numbuh 86," The blonde greeted, smiling nervously. "Umm, what can I do for you?"  
"I was looking for my sleeping bag, Sir. I think I left it here." Fanny took a hesitant step forward, gazing around the room. "We're nearly at the Arctic Base and I couldn't leave without the-"  
"W-wait!" Rachel held out her hand.  
Fanny stopped, dangerously close to her scarf but her back was still fortunately facing the fabric.  
86 blinked at her, as she clearly noticed the frantic look on her superior's face.

"I-I think I saw a sleeping bag lying around on one of the passenger seats." 362 forced a smile, hoping that the red-head would leave without setting her eyes behind the door. "It might be yours."  
"Oh," 86 frowned. "I don't remember putting it there. Thank you for telling me. I'll be leaving... Wh-what's this?"  
The blonde froze as the red-head noticed something and stopped.

Before she could stop her, her second in command stooped and picked up her scarf. "I'm assuming this is yours."

Rachel was about to lie that it belonged to someone else but thought better of it. She crossed her arms and sighed.

"That stupid thing is trash, 86. I'm not wearing that."

"Wh-what?" The blonde raised an eye brow at her. "I mean, what if you catch a cold, Sir? The Arctic's colder than Zero's ice-cream factory!"

"..."

"Sir?"

"..."

Then Fanny finally understood.  
She couldn't help but wear a small smile in amusement as Rachel turned a faint shade of embarrassed pink.

"Maybe I can help ya with the scarf, sir." 86 said. She looked at her superior, her eyes silently asking for permission.  
362 hesitated but decided that it would be rude to turn down her offer.  
She nodded and stood still as Fanny approached her and slung the fabric around the back of her neck.  
While 86 tied her scarf with practiced ease, Rachel couldn't help but flush crimson red as she realized that they were close enough that their foreheads almost touched.  
Close enough that even if she looked away, she'd still see the red-head at the edge of her vision.

"There." Fanny looked up, grinning. "See? It was that..."  
She trailed away as she saw how close their faces were.  
And in that moment, realization struck Fanny like a lightning.  
"I... I need to go look for my sleeping bag." Without looking back, the red-head quickly turned and ran out of the bunker room. If Rachel had called out to her, 86 had not heard. Her mind felt like it had shut down all off her senses but her eyes.

She quickly ran to another bunker room and shut herself inside.  
After she made sure that the door was locked, Fanny leaned against the door and slowly slid to the cold wooden floor.

For years she'd questioned the reasons why she couldn't stop herself from thinking about the Supreme Leader, why she felt nervous and clumsy around her and why her heart always felt like a pounding drum when she was nearby.  
The answer had finally been revealed.  
And now, she'd finally gotten what she wanted.  
The answers to the why's and the what's.

What remained unanswered was whether this feeling was real or an illusion.  
What remained unanswered was whether it mattered that they were both the same genders or not.

-

* * *

"Goodness!" Nurse Cinder exclaimed as she examined her sore red cheek. "You'd be having a huge purple patch on your face by tomorrow!"  
"Ow!" Rachel hissed through gritted teeth as the nurse prodded the area on her face where Quentin had punched her. She wriggled on her stool and leaned as far away from her poking hands as she could without toppling over. "It'll be black blotches by now if you wouldn't leave it alone!"

Fanny had escorted- or rather _dragged_ the blonde to Gallagher Elementary nurse room, paying no mind to Rachel's protests and her_ 'I'm fine' _'s.  
She understood that it was for her sake but really, why was there so much fuss over a simple bruise?  
Fanny stood a little further behind Cinder and as their eyes met, she smiled shyly.

Nurse Cinder reached inside the freezer sitting next to Rachel and pulled out an ice pack.

Somewhere beyond the screen separating the stool from her office, a phone began to ring shrilly.  
"Here." Cinder handed the Fanny an ice pack. "Make sure you press it _gently_ against her cheek. It should numb the pain."  
The red-head carefully took the pack and approached Rachel as Nurse Cinder walked away, leaving them alone.  
As Fanny held out the ice pack, Rachel flinched away.

"Ugh, stop!" She pleaded, staring at the pack as if Fanny was holding out a jar of sewer contents at her.

"What?" Fanny looked down at the harmless blue object on her hand. "It's just some ice."

"Just some ice?" The blonde grimaced. "It's cold! I don't like having cold things near me."

"Too bad." Fanny tried to shove the ice pack to her cheek but Rachel grabbed on to her wrists, trying to resist her. Soon they were wrestling each other, one pushing against the other in a furious attempt to win the battle of the ice pack. "Ya should have thought of that before you flew at Quentin like a lop-sided baboon, you air-head!"

"I did it to save you!"

"I can take care of myself just fine. Besides there are teachers I could talk to."

"True, you could talk to the teachers but you wouldn't." Rachel looked at her straight in the eyes, chocolate against spring. Fanny's heart stopped for a second and she was no longer forcing the blue ice pack on her.  
"You were scared just like the rest of the kids because you knew Quentin would come and find you. You thought that it was better off to keep quiet and avoid him even when he bullied you worse each day!" The blonde went on.

Then in a more bashful tone, she muttered, "And... I-I wanted to be the one saving you."  
They both fell silent as they stared at each other.  
The ice pack slipped from her hand and plopped to the floor as Fanny digested her words.

She turned her face towards the window again, her ears the colour of roses.  
"Air-head." She muttered, crossing her arms with her face still turned away.

* * *

Earlier, members of Sector V had tried to send a transmission call to the Arctic Base so they could notify Numbuh 60 that they'd be arriving shortly and asking for any available information of the attackers. But the call kept on bouncing back; it seems that the signal in the base had been cut off. Numbuh 4 suggested that they should attack the enemies first until the Supreme Leader arrives with her rescue team but Abby Lincoln, the new leader of Sector V, commanded that they should stay low and hidden until they meet Numbuh 362 and the rest. Who or what ever that attacked the base weren't enemies one should charge at so recklessly.

The base's defence line nearly rivalled the Moon Base's defence system!  
And to be able to get past **and **thrash the base! Only those whose power equalled to Grandfather was capable of doing such things.

"But, Numbuh 5!" Wally fixed her with his blazing green eyes. "What about the cadets and the sergeants? They'd be roasted by the time we meet the Supreme Leader!"

"Easy, Numbuh 4." The Sector Leader held up her hand. "To go up against attackers like them aren't going to change anything; we'd only end up in the same position as those cadets and sergeants. It's best to get more people by our side and think up a plan."  
Wally opened his mouth, thought for a moment before he grunted and went back to helping Kuki navigate their way towards the Arctic Base.

They were aboard the C.O.O.L.B.U.S. Numbuh 2, as usual, was piloting while numbuh 3 and 4 took care of navigating and 5 directed the vehicle from the captain's chair.

From the passenger seat, a girl with black hair tied high and icy blue eyes peeked from beneath her fringe looked up at the mentioning of the word 'attackers'. She had two metal rulers sheathed to her back forming a large 'x' on her back.  
"It has to be those Teen Ninjas again." She growled, her lips twisted into a sneer. "I mean, everything they have is far more advanced than what **we **have! Busting past Arctic Base's defence line must had been a piece of cake to them! It's the only logical explanation!"

"But why attack the base, Numbuh 79? What's there to gain in there?" Abby reasoned back. "Let's not jump into conclusions before we find proof."  
"I **know** it's them, Five. Isn't it quite obvious?" She looked around, hoping for supporters or anyone who would at least nod in agreement. "Out of all the stinking enemies of Kids Next Door, Teenagers hated us more than any of the adults put together! They'd do anything to destroy us even if it means attacking one of our headquarters in a freezing place!"

Abby rolled her eyes and sighed.  
_Teen-phobes these days!_  
They'd find even the most silliest excuses to accuse the teenagers. There was a difference between hating teenagers as enemies and a Teen-phobe. While kids generally hates teenagers who are rude and mean to them, teen-phobes on the other hand basically hates every teenager in the world, including the nice ones. "Listen," said Five as she watched the teen-phobe through tired eyes. "Believe it or not, teenagers have hearts just like us kids. We may had been enemies as far as humans had existed, but that doesn't mean they're **always** evil and cruel. Have you even tried talking nicely to one?"

"..."

"Exactly." She went on without waiting for her reply. "Until you could prove that it was the Teen Ninjas, none of us will conclude it is their doing."

79 fell silent but her eyes still blazed with accusations. Instead of countering back, she returned to gazing out the window, her reflection scowling bitterly back at her.  
Abby sighed again, this time more in annoyance than exhaustion.

Numbuh 79 was a perfect human example of a Leopard.  
Stealthy and agile, she had a gift of sneaking up on any enemies independently, attacking them when they are least expecting and always manages to hunt down whatever her mission goal demanded for. And thus was labelled as one of Kids Next Door's top high-ranking spy and Ambush Specialist.  
As for her personality, it wasn't exactly as mighty or modest as the golden creature. Like the sea in a quiet day, she was calm, cold and silent. Harmless by looks but when tampered with, she could drown any enemies in a flurry of attacks and leave them on the shore, unconscious but alive. But when it comes to teenagers, she was as rough as sandpaper.  
What made her an unusual operative was that when she'd graduated, she was not assigned a sector. Not even a place in the moon base.  
Many had asked her why but she would only answer them with a look, devoid of warmth, and walk away.

She was among the few chosen people who was given the mission to save the Arctic Base mainly because of her speciality to whip up a counter-attack plan in seconds and gain information about any ambush just by looking at the destroyed remains itself.  
The Supreme Leader had asked Sector V to pick her up on their way to the Arctic so they'd been quite late thanks to the fact that 79 lived far from where the Arctic Base was.  
5 wished that the Supreme leader had hired someone else to drive her to the base. It wasn't that Abby minded escorting her, it was the superstition she couldn't stand.

"We'll be arriving at the Arctic in less than fifteen minutes, captain." The 2x4 Officer announced as he eased the speed on the C.O.O.L.B.U.S.

Clearing her thoughts, 5 shook her head and gave him a quick nod. "Good work, Numbuh 2. Stand by, everyone! Don't forget your equipment!"

* * *

Rachel and the rest of her rescue team had already arrived but as soon as they stepped off the vehicle, they were greeted with destruction. Frozen to the ground beside each other, their eyes were transfixed on the devastating sight of what remained of the Arctic Base, speechless.  
In all of their years spent as KND operative, not one of them had ever witnessed an ambush with catastrophic results as this.  
The tree roots which snaked beneath the surface of the lake looked as if it had been ripped apart by giant hands and shredded into toothpicks, the buildings were merely bare skeletons of rubbles and frames which were smashed beyond recognition and the lake was no longer frozen as it usually was. The waters now slushed against the ice, thick and dyed in the colour of... Unspeakable shade...

Sara, mostly known as numbuh 1990, turned as she heard the approach of a vehicle and tilted back her head, squinting against the snow as she did so.  
The steady purr of the engine increased into a roar as Sector V's air transport slowly coasted to a landing before it was hushed into silence.  
Departing the vehicle in a single file, the Sector V members and numbuh 79 came to a stop behind numbuh 362, their eye brows arched high up their foreheads, nearly hidden beneath their winter hats, as they took in what was presented before them.

"Numbuh 362 sir?" Sara turned to the unresponsive Supreme Leader. "Sector V is here."

"Holly tangerine." Numbuh 2 stepped back as he saw the unusually coloured lake. "What on sprouts happened here?"  
"Teen Ninjas." 79 crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed to blue slits. "They never learn to steer clear from kids."  
She ignored the frown shot at her from Five and stared straight ahead as if she hadn't noticed.

"Why?" Rachel suddenly began. She was barely audible but her whisper could be clearly heard.

"Why would anyone want to attack a training garrison?" She rubbed her chin. "What's so special about it? Is there something in the head quarters that they wanted? Someone they wanted to destroy?"  
Sara remained silent. She did not know the answers but she had a silent suspicion that someone was trying to slow down the KND process of training the cadets.  
It made sense: the more time it takes to train a cadet, the later they have to graduate.  
Perhaps the attackers needed more time. Time for whatever they are planning to do next and whatever it was, it wouldn't work when there are too many operatives.  
But then it could be part of the enemy's plans to create false beliefs of this.

"Numbuh Five suggest we try to patrol around the Base and look for clues before we freeze ourselves in this snow." Five nodded towards the base.  
The Supreme Leader grunted in agreement and signalled to the rest of the Base rescue team. Soon, the ten operatives were trudging across the field of brilliant white and silver, shortening the distance between them and what was once a head-quarter.

Numbuh 79 brought up the rear of the group. Her lagging behind could be visibly seen but it went unnoticed.  
Soon she stopped and turned, her face untouched with surprise or any particular emotion but a calm, knowing look as she saw something glint from beneath a pile of snow.  
For a moment, she pondered whether it was best to alert her leader and hand over the item. Then a cold fist seemed to clench her insides, making her wince until she, a heart beat later, was running away, not even bothering to cast a second glance at the snow-powdered DVD half-hidden from view.  
A drop the colour of cherry glided from its sharp edge and down the reflective surface, reflecting the Ambush Specialist in a shade of dark red.

* * *

One of the double doors leading to a crowded pub creaked as it swung open.  
The bar was barely lit despite the many chandeliers of candles that hung above their heads, threatening to crush their unsuspecting skulls.  
The screams and howls echoed across the dark place, food was ripped between yellow teeth and gleaming hostile eyes seemed to glow amongst the shadows.  
As the hinges of the door released a low warning growl, scarred and bruised faces turned in unison to face the newcomers.

Numbuh 23 gulped silently.  
She looked behind and at the teenagers who'd escorted her as if unsure whether she should enter the hideous pub.  
"The guy o'er there," One of them nodded in the direction of a small figure seated upon a stool, next to the bar and the farthest from where the new comers stood. "See the one with the hood o'er his face and a lemonade at his hand?"  
23 gave him a slight nod.  
"He's the one ye were suppose to meet. Go on, be respectful and greet him."  
She was shoved inside and the doors slammed shut.  
23 dared not glance at the beastly savages in cow-boy suits and black leather jackets around her. Instead, she looked ahead with her chin slightly tilted up in the air and bravely walked towards the hooded figure.

Whispers began to spread like wild bush fire around her.  
"Who the hell is that kid?"  
"Another recruit? Don't we have enough freakin' kids already?"  
"Whoever she is, I bet she would go cryin' for her mama in less than two weeks."  
"Bet you thirty she goes cryin' in a week, Clive!"

Ignoring the unwelcoming conversation her hosts traded, Virginia seated herself on a creaky old stool next to the figure.  
He was hunched over the bar, sipping his glass and barely even acknowledging her presence.  
23 cleared her throat.  
Not even a twitch of a muscle, let alone a 'hello'.

"Um, Sir?" She began. "The Arctic Base has been destroyed as you'd requested, Sir."

The figure poured another glass, downed it and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.  
He silently stared ahead, his hood drawn to hide his upper half of his face.

Then a low growl. "And Patton?"

"Pardon?"

"What happened to Patton? Did you kill him as well?"

23 narrowed her eyes at the figure.  
It shouldn't really surprise her the fact that the Drill Sergeant was popular among enemies and the Kids Next Door. But something about this figure somehow gave her a feeling that he knew Patton very well. Perhaps even more than an ordinary stranger should.  
Did he have some kind of connection with Patton or even the KND?  
"No one from the Base made it out alive, Sir. My C.A.N.D.Y.M.I.T.E's took care of that"

The figure smirked and reached inside the pocket on the inside of his jacket.  
Slapping a fat red envelope in front of her, he nodded with what she assumed was approval.  
"Here is your reward." He said and returned to his drinking.

Virginia was puzzled.  
She hadn't asked to **get** something. All she wanted to see was Bartie.  
She made it clear that in return for destroying the Base, she would be allowed a chance to see him.  
"What's this?"

"Find out for yourself."

Virginia hesitated but curiosity soon got the better of her.  
She carefully opened the package without tearing it and pulled out a dusty covered book.  
There was only one page beneath the cover. Two photographs and a few papers had been stapled on its surface.  
The first photo had the face of a blonde teenager with broad shoulders and a frown. The other was-  
A shrill, terrified and pained scream exploded in the pub.  
It took a moment for 23 to realize it was coming from her mouth.

The hooded figure calmly sat on his stool and picked on a scab on his elbow, barely even noticing her scream.

"Wh-what have you done to him?" She gasped. "What did you do to Numbuh 35?"

"He failed me." he casually said as if he was just answering a quiz from a teacher. "I expected better from him. 35 turned against me after all I offered him. He got what he asked for."

"And you gagged him, bind him in chains and torture him like a prisoner until he bleeds? I broke my backbone hacking into Arctic base's security system for **this**?"

"What else did you expect? A thank-you present?" He sneered. Without waiting for her to reply, he got off his stool and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, his followers in leather jackets and cowboy hats rose from their seats.  
They stood straight and tall with hands behind their backs, waiting for his next command.  
"35's still alive, Virginia." The figure said as he headed towards the exit. "If you want him to stay alive, you'll do as I say and make no mistake. Your next mission is to kidnap that teenager in the photograph and bring him back to me. The papers on that book will tell you his location and his weakness."

23 glared after him, her eyes two brown stones of cold hatred.  
If only he did not had the power to blow Numbuh 35's life into wisps of smoke like a candle, then she would have beaten the bones out of that monster.  
Bartie was right.  
He was no human. He was a heartless demon!  
"Who are you?" She questioned, her white-knuckled fists shaking from the effort to not punch his face.

At her question, he paused and turned to her. "Ah, forgive my rudeness, lady. Please call me The Whistler." He said and gave her a mocking gentleman bow.  
And with that, the Whistler left with his followers, whistling a familiar tune that slowly faded away.

Even after she was left in the pub by herself, his words had left a bitter imprint on her mind.  
23 dug her nails into the flesh of her palms, a cold stone burning in her stomach.

He will pay for this.  
She will make him beg on hands and knees and weep like a first-grader.  
She will make him suffer the same pain 35 had went through.

* * *

**Yes, my dear readers, revenge is a dish best served sweet.  
...That's what I imagine Numbuh 23 to say...  
****  
In case you didn't catch it, it was 35 the Whistler tortured in the previous chapter.  
And also, 23 specializes in creating explosives made out of sweets and was the one who supplied the attackers with KND equipment as well as her sweets bombs.  
**

***C.A.N.D.Y.M.I.T.E is my made-up KND explosive.**  
**It's suppose to be a candy-cane version of dynamites.**

**Acronym: C**andymite-**A**ttacks**-N**-**D**estroys-**Y**our-**M**alevolent, **I**rritating, **T**errifying **E**nemies.


End file.
